Supercalifraligisticexpialidocious

Today is a very important day. Today is "La Fete de la Musique" in France and the Alliance Française of Trivandrum has organized its own festival. Marie and I are greatly anticipating this event as it will be our first social and official outing since our arrival. It had been about a week that we had started discussing the outfits we would be wearing : not too elaborate but not too casual either. Yes, it was going to be a grand moment.

And today was also important because a) we would be taking care of our cellphone in order to have it set up efficiently; b) we were to meet another one of Mrs Nair's friend, Uma, who knew all the right shops in the city. This was someone to take great care of...and I forget c) the connection of internet as well as the delivery of my mattresses.

The first point was a breeze.

The second was interesting.

The third....at 6 pm, we knew wouldn't happen.

As for the fourth, well....we got a call at 3, saying they would deliver in a half an hour. Then they called at 3:30 and said they would deliver at 4. Then at 4:30 they called again asking if they could come at 5. And then, at 5:30, they called again and asked if they could come at 6. To which I replied that if they didn't come at 6, they could put their mattresses in a very unpleasant place. At 6 they called to say they were lost but that they would be arriving as quickly as possible. The rickshaw that was supposed to take us to the Alliance was ordered for 6:30. The delivery of the mattresses arrived at the same time. And, to make things easier, they had forgotten to bring the bill. Upon which, they asked if we could come with them to the shop in order to pay. To which we politely replied we hoped they were joking. It all ended by them leaving with no payment, a promise they would come on Thursday (and not us going to the store) and poor Pradeem having to look for a new rickshaw. Might I add that we had to negociate the time they would come on Thursday. I asked for 10 to which was pushed to 10:30 and finally negociated for 11.

Do not misunderstand the purpose of my giving these details. It is most definitely not to look down upon the customs here. On the contrary, I have learned to appreciate them for what they are and to deal with them on a daily living basis. It is just a way of explaining how things work.

So, here we are, the mattresses finally delivered. With the promise of a good night sleep in mind, Marie and I, two French ladies nicely dressed for an Indo-French evening of culture, set off for the Alliance.

We get there only to find the gates locked and the guard telling us the offices are closed. We try to explain to him that we wanted to go to the Music Festival to which he points to a banner on which is written a different address. He kindly calls us another rickshaw and gives him precise directions on where to take us.

Our rickshaw gets completely lost : he asks policemen at a men's club, passers by, other rickshaw drivers and a traffic policeman. Finally, cursing under his breath, he finds in a narrow street the music theatre where the Festival is taking place. I can sense Marie and I are already wary and perplexed by how this evening - that we had been waiting for for so long - is starting.

We enter a lovely space where a beautiful, open building serves as the theatre. The loveliness of the place is somewhat perturbed by a rather unmelodious sound, which turns out to be a woman singing karaoke. Barefoot, we enter the theatre and sit down. Two minutes later, I feel my cheekbones picking up, getting ready for that unreasonable and yet what is now almost my daily exercise of histerical laughter. I look at Marie with big wide eyes, which can hopefully compensate the irrisistible desire to open my mouth and let irrepressible sounds come out of it. She looks back at me, knowing the feeling.

We applaude politely at the end of the song.

We then give our greetings to the wife of the director of the Alliance Française.

We return to the matters of our evening, ensuing a short series of karaoke and a young courageous woman playing Massenet on her violin. Things get interesting when a group of young musicians start playing Indian fusion music. What they play definitely speaks to us. The director of the Alliance joins us and we chitchat for a bit. I ask him if a special event will also be organized for the 14th of July to which he replies no because of the fact that he will be on holiday. I suddenly feel alone and far away from my friends and family.

I do realize though that it is wonderful to be living the Music Festival in India. It still often feels unreal to be here, to living our dream. Soo many strong emotions we feel each day.

By 9:30, our stomachs project their own type of karaoke. Many keralese have already left as 9 o' clock is considered late. Marie and I therefore decide to try the restaurant the director of the Alliance had recommended during our brief conversation. After a prompt goodbye, we tiptoe out of the singing theater.

We arrive at the doorstep of a very "fancy" hotel. We are quickly and diligently guided to the restaurant. I notice the cushiony carpet on its doors. We wait a minute and has no one comes to greet us, we open the door. We enter in a rather dim dining room. A musician finishes playing live reggae music. A few tables are filled by families but most of the room is empty. And, as I continue to quickly glance around, I notice the first - of many - detail that makes me want to, once again, explode with laughter : each table and chair is covered in impeccable with linen, except that the chairs have an additional touch to them : a lovely, fat, pink satteny ribbon wrapped around their back.

Once our very professional waiters have taken our order and poured us some mineral water, Marie and I have a better chance to take a closer look and this room and reflect on how the day has gone so far. Marie makes me notice another precious detail, reflecting the standards of the restaurant : a lovely plastic piece of paper protects our chandelier from its candle. We are definitely reassured as to the quality of this place.

Our food comes and suddenly, with it, a rather persistent background techno music. In bewilderment, we begin to eat. Marie as a vegetable stew, cooked in coconut and a rice pancake. I chose Avial, which is coconut mashed with vegetables and curd rice or, should I say, rice in yogurt.

We eat in silence. I, trying to compensate the coolness of the curd rice with the spiciness of the coconut. As for Marie, things seem to be happening differently. She tells me her food is undercooked and has no taste whatsoever. In addition, she bit into a green chili and thought a volcano had burst into her mouth.

Needless to say, we do not finish our food and pay promptly so as to go home as quickly as possible.

This can only be a night to remember.

Totally Supercalifraligisticexpialidocious!!!!!!!!